


The Biggest What-If

by thnksfrthklljs (nothingisreal)



Series: Doomed from the Start [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7563022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingisreal/pseuds/thnksfrthklljs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete was happy. He had been happy for four years and he didn’t think anything could change that.<br/>And why shouldn’t he be? He was in one of the most popular bands, he had great friends and the<br/>best boyfriend in the world. His life was better than ever.<br/>That is, until his whole world was turned upside down...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Biggest What-If

**Author's Note:**

> Great thanks to SelketsChild for helping me with this.  
> Technically it's a sequel but I guess it'd make sense on it's own as well.

 

Pete was happy. He had been happy for four years and he didn’t think anything could change that. And why shouldn’t he be? He was in one of the most popular bands, he had great friends and the best boyfriend in the world. His life was better than ever.

That is, until his whole world was turned upside down without his permission. Without his fucking knowledge even. He thought that maybe he should have seen it coming. That there must have been some signs. Maybe he had done something without even noticing and set off the series of events which seemed to be set on destroying whatever was left of his sanity.

Pete couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment everything started going to hell. It seemed as if one day Patrick was cuddled up next to him, all soft and pliant and then the next the whole band was being sat down in the living room area of their hotel suite, an agitated Patrick explaining to them why it would be best to take a break. Neither Joe nor Andy saw it coming, judging by their expressions.

Pete _certainly_ didn’t see it coming.

“Patrick,” Pete whispered.

But Patrick just wouldn’t stop talking, raving on about doing their own thing and eventually getting sick of each other, even though nobody was listening, all of them still stuck at _what_ while Patrick was already going on about _why_.

“What does that mean for us?” Pete finally managed to cut in halfway through Patrick’s sentence, leaving the latter with open mouth and widened eyes.

“Well, I was just saying…”

“No, Patrick,” Pete’s tone was stern, the almost-promise of another fucking heartbreak in his near future making him livid. “I don’t mean the fucking band.”

Patrick bit his lip anxiously and stared out of the window and it was all the answer Pete needed.

“Fuck you,” he gasped, leaping to his feet, his feelings exploding and blending into one another: betrayal, hurt, anger, disbelief…

“Fuck you,” he repeated, shoving at Patrick, making him take a step back. “Why do you have to do this? Are you breaking up with me because of the band or breaking up the band because of me?”

“Pete,” Patrick tried. But he still refused to meet Pete’s eyes, and that appeared to be the last straw.

Pete stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Weren’t he and Patrick supposed to be forever?

He couldn’t stand it.

Maybe it wouldn’t be quite so unbearable if Pete could keep Patrick. He loved the band, obviously. But he could cope without it, as long as Patrick was there to comfort him, keeping him sane, just like he always did. Like he always had, long before they became anything more than friends. And now the last thing Pete had left was being snatched from him without any warning. He wanted to scream, to kick something. He wanted the pain to stop. He thought of parking lots and loads of colorful pills.

That was what made him stop and concentrate on breathing. His thoughts were getting ahead of him once again and it sucked, obviously, but it also had a way of being potentially lethal as Pete seemed determined to prove time and time again.

He could do this. He was better than that. It wasn’t 2005 anymore. Pete knew something had changed. He had grown up, matured. And he knew better than when he was four years younger. He’d survive. Instead of screaming to empty rooms and fighting his brain with too many pills, he’d act like an adult and pray for something that seemed too much of a miracle to happen.

At first he tried to work things out with Patrick. He tried to talk to him. The band could wait; what the two of them had was more important. But Patrick refused to return Pete’s calls and he never replied to texts. And even Pete had his limits. After two months, he decided to collect what was left of his dignity and forget all about Patrick. Not that he wanted to. Not then, not ever. But he knew he’d only keep falling down, just like he did four years earlier, taking pill after pill, hoping his thoughts would slow down and then waking up to blindingly white hospital rooms. No, he would do everything to prove he got better and hope it would be enough to save him this time around.

  
  


***

  
  


“Is it really as bad as the papers say?” was the first thing Mikey said when Pete opened the door. “‘Cause I’ve got a policy of never believing them.”

“You look good,” Pete answered as he let Mikey in, not really dodging the question and trusting the latter to know it. “She’s good for you.”

Mikey smiled almost shyly, making Pete think of first times and late night texts. “She is, you know. And you’ll be hearing all about it later. But first…”

“Yeah, alright,” Pete chuckled, raising his hands in defeat. “But could we at least sit down?”

Five minutes later Pete emerged from the kitchen with two steaming mugs only to find Mikey sitting on the floor fiddling with his CD player.

“How can you not have our latest album?” He asked, hitting ‘play’. The familiar sound of Metallica

filled the room.

Pete placed the coffee on the table and went to sit next to Mikey.

“Some more faith in me would be in order, Michael,” Pete teased and Mikey stuck his tongue out at him. “I have your album. Upstairs, in my bedroom,” he added, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, just because he knew it’d make Mikey laugh.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mikey said as he raised his hand, chuckling. “I don’t wanna hear the rest.”

“Well, if you change your mind,” Pete winked.

“So, returning to my question…?” Mikey took one mug from the coffee table but remained on the floor.

“It’s not exactly pretty,” Pete admitted, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I mean, I don’t even know what it’s all about.”

“Hasn’t Patrick told you?” Mikey furrowed his brows, sipping his drink. “You guys do talk, right?” he added when he noticed Pete’s expression.

“Well…”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Mikey muttered. “Are you okay? Wow, that’s a fucking stupid question,” Mikey chided himself as he put the already half empty mug down and sat back on his heels in front of Pete. “But are you?”

Pete shrugged. “I’m not BestBuy parking lot desperate yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Mikey nodded. “It is,” he admitted, then bit his lip as if he was considering something carefully. “Pete…?”

“Yeah?” Pete encouraged when Mikey stayed silent.

“How would you feel about me staying here for a bit? Now, before you say anything,” he added quickly when he saw Pete was about to protest. “It’s not that I don’t trust you to take care of yourself. But I just know what it’s like.” He shrugged and smiled uncertainly.

Pete desperately wished for Mikey to stay with all his being. But he wasn't feeling selfish enough just then. “Nah, don’t worry about it.” Pete shook his head. “You do have a wife to go home to now.” It sounded more bitter than Pete wanted it to, but it was the truth.

“She’s a smart girl. She’d manage just fine,” Mikey tried, perfectly aware that it was a lost cause.

“Which reminds me, you were supposed to tell me all about her.”

Mikey studied him for a while longer, knowing very well that Pete was changing the subject and not even trying to be subtle about it. “Even if I wanted to? Stay with you, that is?”

Pete didn’t respond. It was silent for some time before Mikey finally gave in and started talking about Alicia and how wonderful she was. It was doing weird things to Pete’s stomach, but he told himself that he just needed to start eating regularly and refused to examine the matter further, all the while nodding along and smiling at Mikey’s unconcealed awe.

“Look, just think about it?” Mikey asked as they were saying goodbye and he didn’t need to specify what exactly Pete should be thinking about. They both knew. “For me?”

“You fucker,” Pete laughed, startled. “You know I can’t say no to that, don’t you? Alright, I’ll _think_ about it.”

Mikey half-smiled in that way only he could, still not completely convinced. “Just…” he sighed, then shook his head. “You know you can call me anytime, right? Three o’clock in the morning, middle of the concert, whatever. Even if it’s only to talk, I’ll always pick up.”

Pete did his best to ignore the warmth spreading in his chest. “I’m not sure it’d go down well with... um, other people.”

“Well, fuck them,” Mikey exclaimed and Pete just had to laugh. “Pete?”

Pete looked up at the taller man questioningly.

“Promise?” The question seemed simple, but Pete knew there were a hundred meanings folding into that one word.

‘ _promise you won’t do something stupid’_

‘ _promise you’ll call when it gets to be too much’_

‘ _promise you’ll try not to fall apart’_

“I swear,” Pete replied seriously.

“I…” Mikey shook his head. “I’ll see you.”

Pete had the impression it wasn’t what Mikey was going to say but he just nodded. “Sure.”

  
  


***

  
  


The first time Pete had the opportunity to talk to Patrick was a year after their breakup. Pete was at home, watching old horror movies with Gerard, whom Pete suspected had been asked to do this by Mikey, as he seemed to visit almost daily. And Pete had to admit he was fucking grateful to both of them.

They were both sitting in Pete’s living room, the TV reduced to a background noise as they talked about nothing in particular. During that time Pete found that maybe he and Gerard had more in common than he would’ve expected. Gerard was telling another (only slightly embarrassing) story about Mikey when he was a kid when the phone rang. Pete scrambled for his cell phone and accepted without checking the caller’s ID.

“Hello?”

“Um… hi, Pete. How are you?”

The shock Pete felt must have shown in his face because Gerard seemed suddenly worried.

“Patrick,” Pete said, partly to acknowledge that he knew who it was and partly to let Gerard know. “Okay, I guess.”

Gerard raised his eyebrows, then furrowed them in what appeared to be anger. He gestured towards the door and was out of there before Pete could even open his mouth to stop him.

“We haven’t talked in a long time,” Patrick said. Pete thought bitterly that maybe they would have if Patrick had let them.

“Almost a year,” he said instead. He wasn’t making anything easier, but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care. He could still remember the way his heart stopped when Patrick said that was it. All the pain came crashing back, and Pete couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

“Was there anything you wanted to talk about?” Pete asked when the uncomfortable silence stretched between them for a second too long.

“I…,” Patrick hesitated, and Pete heard him sigh. “I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess.”

“Well, you have,” Pete replied, bitter and sarcastic.

“Pete,” Patrick said softly, sounding hurt. Pete felt guilt bubbling in his stomach but he convinced himself to ignore it.

The short conversation that followed was polite and shallow, and it made Pete want to smash something. He never had to be like that with Patrick. Not even the very first time they met. And he hated how it felt. It was as if they were just strangers, forced to make small talk.

“Alright,” Pete exclaimed suddenly, his nerves dangerously frayed. “What is it you really wanted to talk about?”

“Do you think we made a mistake?”

Pete wasn’t sure if Patrick was talking about their relationship or the breakup. He wasn’t even sure if it mattered. He wasn't letting Patrick off the hook so easily. “I think that _I_ made too many too count. But most of them happened long time ago. This one had nothing to do with me.”

And there was that fucking silence again.

“Do you think it was the right decision?” Patrick finally blurted.

Pete’s lips curled up in a smirk. “How should I know? It wasn’t mine.”

“We’d have grown to hate one another,” Patrick said, trying to sound reasonable.

Pete narrowed his eyes. “In free translation: _you_ would grow to hate _me_ ,” he said bitterly.

“Come on, Pete…”

“Look, don’t worry about it. I tend to wear _myself_ out. I can’t even imagine what it must be like for anyone else.”

He ended the call angrily before Patrick could say anything else, and then turned off his phone. Talking to Patrick wasn’t a good idea, no matter how much Pete ached to hear his voice. He knew that he’d pay a high price for this in the form of sleepless nights and restless thoughts.

  
  


***

  
  


In retrospect, Pete really should have expected what happened next. But then, maybe he did. It was past midnight. Pete was sitting in his living room, watching TV. The lights were out, because he spent the whole evening there and honestly didn’t feel like getting up just to flick a switch.

Surprisingly, he didn’t have a heart attack when the doorbell rang. Still, it was a close call. He decided to ignore it at first. But whoever it was wouldn’t let up. After two minutes, Pete admitted his defeat and went to the front door, hoping to God it wasn’t some serial killer.

It was the next most dangerous thing.

“What the...? Let me guess, Gerard?” Pete sputtered.

“Bingo,” Mikey grinned, pushing past Pete and dropping his suitcase next to the sofa in the living room.

Pete stood at the door staring for some time before he realized he hadn’t moved. After locking the door, he joined Mikey on the sofa. Neither of them turned the lights on. They sat cross-legged, facing each other. Pete was still trying to make sense of what was going on, and Mikey seemed to get that, because he waited patiently.

“You didn’t have to…” Pete began.

“I wanted to,” Mikey interrupted him. “I’ve missed you, you know,” he smiled, patting Pete’s shoulder, leaving his hand there. “Besides, Alicia’s on tour. I was lonely.”

Pete chuckled. “You are so,” he paused, finding himself at loss for words. “You get me to do what you want by making it about you.”

“I think sly is the word you’re looking for,” Mikey smirked and added, face softening, “Besides, it’s not my fault you care about everyone else more than you do about yourself.”

The movie ended, turning into infomercials. Pete stretched out a bit, so that he could reach the remote control and turn it off. Then he thought that maybe suffering through stupid commercials would have been better than sitting in complete darkness with Mikey so close their knees were touching.

That word floated up again: _dangerous_.

“You wouldn’t pick up your phone,” Mikey said softly. If it was anyone else, Pete would find an accusation in it. With Mikey, there was only a concerned question.

“I turned it off,” Pete explained, shrugging even though Mikey probably couldn’t see him.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mikey asked, his hand resting on Pete’s arm, rubbing it comfortingly.

“If you suddenly decide to choose a different career path, try for a shrink,” Pete advised teasingly, feeling pleased when he heard Mikey’s quiet chuckle. He bit his lip. “There really isn’t much to talk about.”

“Gerard said,” Mikey started slowly as if he wasn’t sure he should go there, “that I shouldn't come. That you and Patrick probably made up.”

Pete shook his head and snapped, “Well, we haven’t.”

“I gathered that much,” Mikey agreed and Pete could imagine him biting his lip thoughtfully. This time the silence stretched out for much longer, Mikey still rubbing Pete’s arm, before his fingers came down to circle Pete’s wrist.

“Do you really wanna hear all this?” Pete asked, even though he knew the answer.

“You know I do.”

“It’s just… Why is it so fucking difficult?” Pete whispered, leaning his forehead against Mikey’s collarbone. “I mean, we talked for a few minutes, but... it was so different. As if we were... fucking _strangers_ , or something. It was never like this before.” His voice trembled and he stopped to take a shaky breath.

Mikey’s arms were around Pete in an instant, pulling him forward and into his lap.

“Shh,” Mikey soothed, “I’ve got you.”

Pete pillowed his head on Mikey’s shoulder and took a couple of deep breaths before continuing.

“I do still love him,” Pete insisted, even though Mikey probably never doubted that. “But he’s not _my_ Patrick anymore, somehow. I just... I feel like I don’t know him at all. It was all so forced. When I broke up with you,” Pete realized what he just said when he heard Mikey’s sharp intake of breath.

He wanted to apologize, but Mikey was faster. “Yeah?”

“When I broke up with you,” Pete repeated slowly, whispering the words, “it wasn’t like that. I knew that we were still friends. But now with Patrick, I... It's not... Nothing's the same anymore.” He shrugged helplessly.

Mikey didn't speak, just kissed his forehead and started running his fingers through his hair. Pete was only slightly surprised to find it just as comforting as it had been four years earlier.

  
  


***

  
  


Maybe it shouldn’t have been so easy to fall into a comfortable routine but it was. From the very first day when Pete woke up on his own couch, to a blanket he didn’t remember putting on top of himself and Mikey humming in the kitchen, it felt natural. A month later, it was weird to even think about Mikey not being there. It just felt right.

After all, they were close friends. At least, that's what Pete told himself.

And Pete had to admit he had missed Mikey. Not that they ever lost contact. But it was different having him _right there_. It felt good. It felt as if somebody cared very much about him. Of course, he knew it. He just didn’t always _feel_ it.

Patrick became something of an afterthought. Pete had always expected that if finally the day came when everything stopped constantly reminding him of what he used to have, he’d blame himself and feel even worse for forgetting and moving on. In reality, he felt, maybe not great, but okay. He was slightly bummed, but that was only to be expected. After all, not having Patrick in his life took some getting used to. _Lots_ of getting used to. They’d been so close for so long, Pete had gotten into the the habit of seeing him in every future scenario he ever imagined.

And sometimes, although he was reluctant to admit it, Pete would lie in his bed at night, thinking about the biggest what-if of his life. What if he had chosen Mikey in the first place? Would Patrick still have ended the band? Would Pete have gotten his heart broken? Would they still be together? Or would Mikey have left him for Alicia?

It felt like too much sometimes, not knowing what could have been. If Pete were brutally honest with himself, which he usually tried to avoid at all costs, he would have to admit that sometimes he wished he had never made that choice. That he could erase that day… that whole week for good measure. There were times, when they fought, when Patrick wouldn’t speak to him, when Pete just felt so fucking useless and hopeless but Patrick just didn’t get it no matter how hard he tried. Those were the times when Pete would remember Mikey with his easy smile just for him, his calmness, and the way he would always look at Pete like he was something very special and precious. He’d beat himself up afterwards, but most of the time he did nothing to fight these thoughts. They were a bit like a glass of cool water when you have a fever.

Mikey calmed him down. Always.

He loved Patrick, of course he did, more than anything else in the world. But sometimes the two of them could get to be too much, riling each other up unintentionally, seeing which one would buckle first. The problem was that way too often neither of them did. So they would just go on at each other until something gave way. It was a bit as if just the two of them being in the same room was like a time bomb, just waiting to go off.

Mikey, on the other hand…

Mikey was happy to just go with the flow unless he really wanted something, in which case he would just go ahead and get it, thank you very much, no bloodshed needed. Lately with Patrick, it was his way or the highway. It didn’t matter if it was important. It seemed like it was more about proving something than whether Patrick was actually right.

Mikey could read Pete as if he was an open book. Pete could try and put up walls to hide behind but it would never work. Instead of blowing them up, Mikey would just walk straight through them without damaging one stone, then sit in there with Pete until he finally realized it was okay.

Yeah, Patrick knew Pete, nobody could ever deny it. But sometimes he just seemed lost, as if he wasn’t sure what he should do with the knowledge he had, the knowledge Pete had _trusted_ him with. Pete knew he was a lot to handle. He had the tendency to just walk straight into those nasty ditches, though he knew perfectly well they were there, maybe he even dug them himself, and then just sit in there until somebody came along and helped him out.

Patrick would sometimes fight him tooth and nail, call him childish and melodramatic. But Mikey always seemed to _get_ it.

“Gerard was in a dark place,” Mikey had told him once when they were lying on the grass, the buses some ten feet away, and the stars bright above them. “Actually, he was down a long time, years, even. It was awful. Back when we were kids, he would sometimes lock himself in his room and stay there for days. Mom brought him food, but he rarely ate even half of it. And he didn’t want to talk to anybody.” Mikey paused and smiled sadly. “Well, except for me. At first, I was terrified because I thought he’d throw me out if I tried, but he didn’t. He laughed actually _laughed_. I couldn’t even be mad that he was laughing at me, because he'd been so miserable. He said I was stupid to think that he wouldn’t want me there. He said that no matter how fucked up everything got, we were brothers, and would always have each other. He made me promise to remember it.

“After that first time, I started going to him more often, whether he was down or not. Sometimes, I’d sleep there. He asked me once why I did it, why I didn’t find myself something else to do, more fun than watching him mope. I reminded him of what he told me that first time.

Back, then he was taking pills, but then he started drinking, too. Soon, he was doing harder drugs. It just… kept getting worse. Last year… he hit bottom and actually wanted to kill himself. Thankfully, from there, he actually accepted help and started getting better. Nowhere to go but up, you know?” He'd chuckled darkly then, and Pete could still hear that sound as clearly as if it were happening now.

“The first two weeks or so we took turns watching him. He knew we didn’t trust him but he said it was okay, that we shouldn’t, because even he didn’t trust himself. But he never even _tried_ to take anything. From the moment he said he’d quit, he never as much as looked. But the withdrawal was awful. He'd shake, and sweat, and vomit, and yell at everyone.  He was like a monster in Gerard's body, sometimes worse than when he was on drugs. Seeing him like that… I wish he’d never had to go through it.”

Pete knew how much it had hurt Mikey, his brother suffering. It worked both ways. What the two of them had, it made Pete’s chest warm and his heart hurt all at the same time. It was beautiful to watch and painful because it made him think of what he himself didn’t have and probably never would.

Pete liked Gerard and he honestly wished him well. Still, he was grateful that what had happened to him seemed to make Mikey more sensitive and Zen-like. Granted, this was always a good thing, but it was especially helpful to Pete right now, and he wasn't sure whether he was an asshole for being a little happy about that.

Of course, there was also the fact that Mikey himself wasn’t much better. He'd been there. He knew firsthand what it was like when sometimes you needed to take pills just to stop yourself from spontaneously combusting or jumping in front of a train, whichever sounded easier ( _or more dramatic or messier for everyone to clean up after because that will teach them to leave me and ignore me and NOT LOVE ME..._ ).

Pete shook his head a little, trying to come back to his original point, if he'd ever even had one.

The thing was, Mikey had had years of experience figuring out exactly what to say, and when, so he could make it better. It was for shitty reasons, but Pete couldn't help being glad for it now.

But Patrick… Shit, for Patrick, trying to help (or even remotely understand) Pete must have sometimes felt like playing Russian Roulette. Get it right good for you. Get it wrong sorry, _**BANG!**_ It wasn’t Patrick's fault that he'd had a different set of experiences, that he was just a touch cleaner, more innocent. It was what had drawn Pete to him in the first place. Frankly, if better understanding Pete meant Patrick having to go through all that shit too, losing that little bit of light, then Pete would rather just shoot himself ( _no, no that's not helpful, that would not make things better for Patrick, no matter how strained things are right now_ ), or just not exist. Maybe that would be better. Gentler. Safer.

Pete resented Patrick right now, but no way would he wish that kind of suffering on him. Not on anyone.

“Aliens or vampires?”

Pete blinked until Mikey stopped being a blurred shape. What had he even been thinking about at this point? “Huh?” he mumbled.

“Don’t you have any zombies?” Gerard asked from kitchen door, an empty bowl in his hand.

Mikey wrinkled his nose. “Well, I guess we could probably watch The Night of The Living Dead for roughly the _billionth time_.” He emphasized this playfully with a smirk and an eyeroll.

“Great,” Gerard grinned at him, blithely ignoring the jab. “I’ll make some popcorn.”

“Are you okay?” Mikey asked Pete, after Gerard disappeared back into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Pete asked a little groggily, looking at the kitchen door as if they held all the answers. He'd been so lost in his own swirling thoughts, he'd lost track of everything happening right in front of him.

“Gerard came over to watch a movie with us,” Mikey explained, turning the TV on. “You know, my brother? The weird dude who constantly dyes his hair, sleeps in a basement, and loves comics?”

“Yeah, I know who he is,” Pete protested fiercely, surprised when Mikey started laughing loudly.

“Either somebody’s spiked one of my coffees today or my brother just laughed,” Gerard said teasingly, setting the bowl, now full of popcorn, on the coffee table before plopping down next to Pete on the sofa.

“Fuck you,” Mikey chuckled, finding the remote control and squeezing himself between the two men sitting on the sofa. “Laughing could kill you,” Mikey stuck his tongue at Gerard.

“How?” Gerard asked, incredulous.

“Well, for example you could choke,” Mikey said reasonably, throwing the remote control in Pete’s lap and shoving a handful of popcorn into his own mouth. “Or you could swallow a wasp.”

Gerard chuckled at that while Pete struggled to work out what exactly he was supposed to do, before realizing that it all came down to pressing the play button.

“I’m pretty sure you’re more likely to choke when you’re trying to talk through a mouthful of popcorn than when you laugh, but whatever you say, little brother.” Gerard rolled his eyes.

“You just know I’m always right,” Mikey concluded, shifting around so that he could use Gerard as a pillow.

As the credits rolled, Pete still couldn’t shake off the feeling of ‘what the fuck is my life’.

  
  


***

  
  


Pete felt like a teenager again, sneaking out without permission somewhere he shouldn’t go. Because, seriously even Pete knew that he’d be better off anywhere else. He knew that this could and, knowing his luck, probably would end in some kind of a disaster. But his curiosity got the better of him once again. He felt reckless, adrenaline pushing against his skin, making it itchy and too tight.

The club was stuffy and filled with kids (probably actual teenagers), most of whom were surprisingly sober. It made Pete slow down and just look around, wondering if that was the new normal. Maybe, now, kids knew better than to defy their parents and drink until they couldn’t walk straight, throwing up at the front door and getting grounded for a week. Or maybe it was always like this and Pete was just too out of touch to really notice.

The lights were dimmed, making the place so dark, it was difficult to see further than two feet away. Nevertheless, Pete kept his hood on, trying not to draw unwanted attention to himself. Usually he wouldn’t mind all that much. He loved his fans, and even the press didn’t bother him most of the time. After all, they had to feed their families somehow. But not tonight. Tonight, he couldn’t risk it. He just leaned against a wall in the corner and hoped to God he looked inconspicuous.

It was probably thirty minutes after he’d arrived when the lights above the small stage went on and the band started playing without a preamble.

Pete couldn’t say he recognized the song. But maybe he just wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy staring at the man in the middle of the stage, the extreme feeling of unease hitting him like a tidal wave. Everything was so fucking wrong! He was way too thin, his hair too light, and his demeanor too… Pete wasn’t even sure. He wouldn’t want to call it _fake_ , but it certainly felt unreal to him. The seemingly effortless self-confidence, which Pete knew for a fact was actually a hell of a lot of effort for him. The seductive sway of hips paired with come-hither bedroom eyes. This was nothing like the boy he'd known.

But, if he closed his eyes and filtered out the noise, the music, he could still remember the voice. It remained unchanged, bringing back a flood of memories of late night calls, sharing bunks, gentle kisses, and hushed whispers. There was a lump growing in his throat, making it hard to breathe and his eyes stung a bit.

It was still Patrick, even if it was not _his Patrick_ anymore.

And Pete was man enough about it to admit, even if only to himself, that he really fucking missed him.

After the first three songs, it got slightly easier, a bit more manageable to ignore the way his heart broke a little bit more each time Patrick seduced the public in a way he’d never done to anyone before, not even Pete.

Towards the end of the concert, against his better judgment, Pete found himself drifting in the direction of the backstage area. Apparently, he had had enough of being careful and thoughtful and actually thinking. He was back to jumping head first without worrying about where he'd land, or how much it might hurt.

Patrick’s face when he first saw him made him regret it. But before he could even open his mouth to apologize, explain, to _say something_ , he found himself pushed against the wall of the tiny dressing room by those deceptively strong arms. He expected a punch. What he got instead was a pair of warm lips, still so familiar despite the lipstick, which was now smeared on both of their faces. Pete’s brain shut off completely and all he could focus on was Patrick. The way he smelled of unfamiliar cologne and very familiar sweat. The feel of makeup smearing under his palms where he put them on Patrick’s cheeks. How his hair seemed coarser and shorter than he remember.

Even the kisses seemed different. They were never this passionate, this wet with _lust_.

Pete believed he was going to be pushed off any moment now, Patrick coming to his senses. But the moment never came. Not when Patrick pulled back to study Pete carefully. Not during the ride to the hotel, Patrick’s hand hot and heavy on Pete’s thigh. Not even when they finally stumbled through the door.

Patrick pushed him onto the bed roughly, quickly stripping himself. Pete’s first instinct was to look away, knowing how much Patrick always hated being watched. He fought it and looked, all the while waiting for the lights to be turned off, or Patrick telling him to stop staring. But neither happened. Pete took in the sight before him, Patrick completely naked, his skin flushed and his cock fully hard. Pete’s own erection twitched in his pants when Patrick licked his lips and climbed onto the bed over him.

And they were kissing again, Patrick working at Pete’s clothes quickly and viciously. Pete felt like a tool, just lying there, paralyzed, his mind screaming at him to stop, that this was a bad idea. But he had had years of practice ignoring it, so he managed to plunge back into this moment into _Patrick_. He wrapped his arms around the younger man, bringing him closer.

He wanted to slow it down a bit, really keep some control and enjoy it, but Patrick was having none of it. He just broke the kiss, leaning down to bite at the point where Pete’s neck met the shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark.

And, yeah, Pete could totally do rough sex, if that was what Patrick wanted.

He grabbed Patrick’s hips, somehow managing not to cringe at the way his fingers encountered much more bone than actual flesh, and flipped them over, so that Patrick was on the bottom, his eyes comically wide at the sudden change in position. He quickly recovered, grinning at Pete dirtily, a mad glint in his eyes.

“This what you want?” He drawled, his hands on both of Pete’s shoulders, fingers digging into the skin. “Come on then,” Patrick continued, his voice dropping even lower. “Fuck me.”

It was the first time any of them spoke, save for the quick exchange with the taxi driver. Pete shoved the uneasiness aside, focusing at the task at hand.

“Where…?”

“My pants pocket,” Patrick said before Pete could even finish the question.

Pete moved to the other side of the bed, reaching for Patrick's pants which lay discarded on the floor. He came up with some lube and was just about to get back when Patrick’s voice stopped him.

“And there should be some condoms too.”

Pete blinked at the floor stupidly as if he expected some kind of explanation from it.

“You want me to wear a condom?” He asked, glancing at Patrick over his shoulder, his voice rough

from not having been used in the past few hours.

Judging by Patrick’s face, Pete braced himself for some sarcastic comment, but Patrick settled for

a simple “yeah”.

“Right,” Pete said to nobody in particular, grabbing the condom and moving back to the top of the

bed.

“Wait,” Patrick stopped him with a hand on Pete’s chest. “I wanna ride you,” he explained. Before

Pete could even process the piece of information, the headboard was digging painfully into his

back and Patrick was straddling his thighs and lubing up his own fingers, pushing two of them into

his ass roughly.

Pete watched Patrick’s mouth fall open and his eyelids drop shut, as he apparently brushed

against his prostate. Patrick’s head was lolling on his shoulder, as he gasped, his hips going in

circles and Pete’s fingers _itched_. He wanted to be the one preparing Patrick, as hot as watching

this was.

“Fuck,” Patrick whispered, as he withdrew his fingers and wiped them on the sheets. He handed

Pete the condom and lube, and Pete felt a spike of annoyance in the pit of his stomach. He

ignored it, quickly unrolling the condom, squeezing some lube onto his hand and stroking himself.

Patrick resumed his position directly above Pete’s cock, reaching behind himself to grasp the base

before slowly sinking down in one smooth motion. His mouth was hanging open, a contrast to his

closed eyes and he was gripping his own thigh with his free hand.

Pete wanted to reach out, to grab his hips, to touch his skin, but he wasn’t sure what was allowed

anymore, so he fisted his hands in the sheets and kept himself perfectly still waiting for Patrick to

get used to the feeling. It took all of a second before Patrick started moving, hips going in circles as

if testing out the angle before he quickly started moving up and down on Pete’s cock.

Somehow, it all felt wrong. Pete couldn’t put his finger on it, but he found his thoughts drifting. Patrick barely even seemed to notice how distracted and confused Pete was as he jerked himself quickly, moans spilling from his lips. It didn’t take long for him to come on Pete’s stomach.

Pete flipped them over, so that he was on top and started fucking roughly into the younger man. Not so long ago, he would have been hesitant to go at it so hard, but Patrick didn’t seem to mind despite the fact that he must have been oversensitive from his orgasm. So Pete just let himself stop thinking and instead focused on how it felt. How tight Patrick was around his cock, how he just took it. He closed his eyes and just _felt_.

But when he came, it wasn’t Patrick he was thinking of.

  
  


***

  
  


“Gerard, can I talk to you?”

“Yeah…? I mean, yeah, sure. Come in. I’m alone. You want a cup of coffee? I just made some.”

And so Pete ended up in Gerard’s living room, a now probably lukewarm cup of coffee in front of him.

“Alright,” said Gerard after the silence stretched out for way too long. “You’re kinda freaking me out right now.”

“Sorry,” Pete said hollowly. “I’m just not sure where to start.”

“You can start by telling me what it’s about,” Gerard suggested, putting down his empty mug and resting his forearms on his knees.

“Well… It’s about Patrick,” Pete admitted, tugging at the loose thread in Gerard’s couch. “I saw him.”

“Saw him when?” Gerard prompted when Pete paused again.

“Yesterday. I went to one of his shows,” Pete shrugged. He felt bad for making Gerard practically drag the confession out of him even though he was the one who wanted to talk in the first place.

“I’d ask if you guys made up but I think you’re making the answer rather obvious. So what was it? Did you guys have sex or something?”

Pete widened his eyes at Gerard comically. “Uh…” was all he managed to say.

Gerard raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’s a yes. Wait,” he seemed to think about it for a moment. “So… you had sex… but you haven’t made up. Is that right?”

“Um… yeah,” Pete nodded. “But it was just so… weird. He’s changed so much.”

Pete raised his eyes to find Gerard studying him scrupulously. “Well, people do change, you know? Maybe he’s just grown up.”

Pete shook his head. He couldn’t find a way to explain how it wasn’t his Patrick. How it felt like he was talking to a complete stranger.

“Can I ask you a question?” Gerard asked slowly, his eyes still not leaving Pete’s face.

“Shoot,” Pete encouraged, taking a cautious sip of his coffee and making a face when he found it almost cold.

“Why are you talking to me about this? We’re not really that close.”

It was one of many things about Gerard that Pete both envied and loathed. He could say exactly what was on his mind and never make you feel like he was criticizing you in any way. Pete rested the rim of his mug against his lip. Cold coffee might have been awful, and he was painfully aware that he was biding his time, but he had no idea how he should answer that. In the end, he came to the conclusion that with Gerard honesty really _was_ the best policy. “Mikey didn’t think I should go there.”

Gerard hummed, pursing his lips. “He wouldn’t,” he muttered, more to himself than to Pete, but there was something in his tone… “Are you going to tell him though?”

Pete opened his mouth, trying to come up with a reply. “You think I should, don’t you?” He asked when Gerard started sending him a very unhappy look over the coffee table.

“You got that one right,” Gerard agreed. “Look, I won't spill unless he asks me. I’m not keeping any secrets from him, but I won't tell just to tell. Just so you know.”

Pete nodded. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I probably will tell him.”

“Good,” Gerard smiled, now looking much more pleased. “Now, let me get us some more coffee and then we can watch Star Wars.”

  
  


***

  
  


It had been a week. A week since Pete slept with Patrick. And the unease was slowly eating away at him. Not guilt. He had no reason to feel guilty. But he felt like he had done something wrong. He sometimes got the urge to just pick up his phone and call Patrick but then he’d remember the Patrick from a week ago alongside the Patrick he had fallen in love with and quickly abandon the idea.

When Pete returned from Gerard’s house, Mikey took one look at him and asked, although if Pete was being honest it was more of a statement, if he had seen Patrick. And Pete might have just decided that he had had enough of trying to be subtle, so he just blurted out that they had fucked. Mikey looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before turning his attention back to the TV. And that was it. Nobody mentioned it ever since.

Nevertheless, there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere that just didn’t seem to go away. Pete couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. Mikey was still talking to him, Gerard still came over every other day, happy to have his brother in L.A, they still watched horrors and sci-fi movies. It was mostly... pretty normal. Too normal. Achingly stupidly _normal_ , to the point where it started driving Pete absolutely nuts.

“I can’t fucking stand it,” he exclaimed one day out of the blue. He was sitting at the kitchen table while Mikey washed the dishes.

Mikey looked at him over his shoulder. “Can’t stand what?”

“Something’s wrong. I know something’s wrong, so don’t try to deny it,” he ordered, although Mikey seemed to have no intention to deny anything whatsoever. “I just don’t know what it is that’s wrong,” Pete finished quieter.

“Right,” Mikey said, tone the perfect definition of neutral.

“Are you mad at me or something?” he asked before Mikey could say anything else. “‘Cause I know you are. I can feel it, even though you're not saying anything, and it's driving me up a wall and I... I’m sorry.”

Mikey abandoned the idea of doing the washing up, turning to Pete and crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you sorry for?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, ignoring the nagging thought that this conversation was fucking ridiculous. “But whatever it is that pissed you off, I didn’t mean it,” he finished pathetically.

Mikey sighed deeply, moving away from the counter to sit opposite Pete. “Alright, so maybe I am just a little bit upset,” he admitted, playing with the sugar bowl between them.

“But... why?” Pete whined.

Mikey dragged his palms down his face, suddenly looking exhausted. “Look,” he started. “It’s really nothing. I mean, I thought I got over it, but apparently I was wrong. I just need to…” he paused, furrowing his brows. “Alright, so I don’t really know what I need to do. But I’ll be fine.”

Pete raised his eyebrows. “Get over what?”

Mikey ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair and staring out of the window over his shoulder. “Uh… over you,” Mikey said so quietly, Pete wasn’t sure if he hadn’t just made it up.

“Sorry?”

“I never got over you, okay?” Mikey said, much louder this time. “I’m trying. But it’s just so fucking difficult, you know?” Pete wasn't sure if he should tell him exactly how well he knew that. “Being here… being friends with you just felt so… easy, I guess. I thought that maybe it’d finally be enough. But then, when you slept with Patrick… Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything between us. We’re still friends.”

Pete was staring at him blankly. Somehow, that solution didn’t agree with him. But then, he felt that no matter what he did, it’d end up being wrong. Maybe there really was no happy ending for either of them?

“But you’re married,” Pete said weakly, perfectly aware of how it proved absolutely nothing.

Mikey snorted. “Yeah. So?”

“Don’t you love her?” Pete felt his heart might break at the idea of him and Alicia being unhappy.

Mikey sighed. “I do. She’s beautiful and smart and she was there for me when I got so fucked up I couldn’t function. But…” He didn't finish the sentence, but he met Pete's eyes, and the message in them was clear.

_But she's not you._

“Mikey…” Pete wanted to tell him about the sleepless nights, about the images of life he… _they_ could have had. But maybe he was just beginning to realize that some things were better left unsaid.

“It’s okay. I get it. And I’m not mad at you. Well, not exactly. I’m more mad at myself. I mean, look at me. I’ve got a wife and I still can’t stop thinking about my friend, my fucking _ex_ , after... what? Five years?”

Pete was biting his lip. He hated seeing Mikey like this, like he was going to fall apart any second.  Mikey was always stable, everyone's rock, and Pete wasn’t quite sure what to do to comfort him. Especially as, apparently, he had caused the despair in the first place, solely by existing. He wanted to hug Mikey so hard it hurt and tell him that everything was going to be alright but he didn’t know if he should.

“Pete?” Mikey snapped him out of his thoughts. “This won’t change anything between us. Promise me,” he added when he noticed Pete still chewing his own lip.

“I’m not sure I can,” he admitted. “It’s just… it’s you. And you’re never…” he shrugged helplessly, unable to figure out what exactly he meant.

“I’m me. I’m the same guy I’ve always been. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Pete nodded. “Yeah, you are.”

Mikey smiled at him weakly. “So no acting weird around me or I’ll punch you. And don’t think I won’t, ‘cause I will.”

Pete chuckled. “I know you will.”

  
  


***

  
  


It _was_ weird. Maybe not like Gerard-level weird, but pretty weird nonetheless. After all, knowing that one of your best friends (best friend maybe? Patrick seemed to have vacated that position) was in love with you could change the way you look at him. So maybe Pete had had the feeling that Mikey still loved him but he couldn’t have been sure until Mikey confirmed it. Seriously, suspecting and knowing are two different things. Hearing it said out loud… it made something in Pete snap. He couldn’t really boil it down to a short explanation; it felt like suddenly he was sixteen again, and everything seemed like too much and not enough at the same time. He wanted but was afraid of what would happen if he went ahead and acted on it.

If it was five years ago, Pete would go to Mikey and tell him exactly what he thought about the whole business, consequences be damned, and then maybe kiss him breathless. If it was three years ago Pete would call Patrick or, better yet, take the first flight to Chicago and stay as long as it took for Patrick to calm him down. Now though…

When Pete thought about people he might go to when he needed someone, besides Patrick and Mikey, the only person that sprang to mind was Gerard. No, that’d be way too weird. It might even prove to be too weird for Gerard, and that was saying something, although truth to be told Pete doubted it would be.

He didn’t have much contact with Joe and Andy. Certainly not enough to suddenly call them and ask them to listen to him complain. They would, he knew that. But it seemed like too much to ask of them, and Pete really hated feeling like a burden.

“Alright, out with it, Wentz,” Gerard demanded one afternoon when they were sitting on Pete’s bed, going through his record collection.

“I don’t kno…”

“Seriously? Don’t give me that crap. I deserve better.” His eyes never left the cardboard cover of the album in his hands, but Pete knew beyond the shadow of a doubt he meant what he was saying. And he was right.

“It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter,” Pete tried.

Gerard looked at him skeptically. “If it has anything to do with my brother still being in love with you, it’s okay to talk to me.”

Pete stared at Gerard in disbelief, his mouth hanging open. “How…?”

Gerard shrugged and smiled. “You know we’re close.”

“Yeah, well, there’s close and then there’s _close_.”

Gerard laughed happily. “He’s my best friend. Always was and always will be. That said, I, as your friend… oh, don’t look so surprised we _are_ friends, so deal with it… anyway, I get to listen to you complain and, I don’t know, let you cry on my shoulder, right? And then as Mikey’s brother, I get to choose whether it’s something he should definitively know about it. So get started before Mikey comes home.”

Pete sighed deeply. He stood firmly by the opinion that it was weird, but he found he didn’t care as much as he'd thought he would. Gerard was giving him the opportunity to talk to someone. Someone who knew Mikey better than anyone else ever could.

“I thought he got over it, you know,” he admitted softly. “It was five years ago. He’s fucking married, for God’s sake. And now he just drops this bombshell on me and expect me to act as if nothing happened.”

“But did you? Think that he got over it? Or was it just something you kept telling yourself?” Gerard asked, making Pete stare at him dumbly.

“Either you’re psychic, I’m _that_ easy to read, or you know me better than I thought.” Gerard just smiled at him warmly. “Did you know that I used to jerk off to you?” Pete asked suddenly, remembering the time before he met Mikey. He flushed as soon as the sentence left his mouth, wondering whether he’d ever learn to _think before opening his fucking mouth, goddammit_.

To Gerard’s credit he didn’t as much as blink at the confession. “My ego is seriously loving you.” Then, he winked. “You’ve stopped?” He asked casually as if he was discussing the weather. Apparently average people’s ‘fucking weird, what the hell’ was Gerard's normal.

“Yeah,” Pete said quickly. “Well… mostly,” he admitted, when memories from a couple of weeks ago came back to him.

Gerard chuckled. “That’s one of the best compliments I’ve ever got, you know. Now, back to my brother. You didn’t answer my question.”

“No, I… I never really believed he _quite_ got over it. But he seemed to be doing alright, so i wrote it off as my huge ego.”

Gerard hummed and moved up the bed, so that he could lean against the headboard. “So why did it make it weird for you?”

Pete had to stop for a moment and think whether he should tell the truth or just try to get away with a lie. If Mikey found out…

“Well…”

“The truth, please,” Gerard said, making Pete glare at him.

“Fucking psychic, I swear to God,” he muttered under his breath which earned him a chuckle from Gerard. “Sometimes I think that maybe I should have never broken up with him. Even when I was with Patrick. I mean, that decision… it was maybe the worst time in my life. There was no way to make the right choice. I could have either one of them as a boyfriend and the other one as a friend. And, honestly, I’ve been in love with Patrick for so long… But I was going out with Mikey. Patrick would have been upset, but he would’ve understood. So why did I decide to break Mikey’s heart, and my own, for something that might have never worked out? Maybe I made the wrong choice.”

Gerard sighed deeply and finally put the record aside to take Pete's hand. “You want me to answer that?” He asked.

Pete shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Gerard gave him a lopsided smile. “You do realize that Mikey is my brother, right? So the fact that you broke his heart never really agreed with me. Obviously I think you should have stayed together. However…” he paused as if weighing his words “...I do get why you made the choice you did. I mean, come on. Patrick’s the love of your life, anybody can see that. I know you loved… love?... Mikey. But against what you had with Patrick? Nothing stood a chance.”

“Were you angry that I broke up with him?” Pete asked. As if Gerard wouldn’t be angry about the fact that someone hurt his brother.

“Not really,” Gerard replied to Pete’s surprise. “I mean, obviously I hated how miserable Mikey was. But the fact that either way _you_ would get your heart broken kinda made me feel sorry for you. So I refrained from kicking your ass.”

“Thanks. I guess,” Pete smiled.

“Are you still in love with him?” Gerard asked after a while of silence.

Pete looked up at him in surprise, anxiety bubbling in his stomach. “Which answer is the correct one?” He asked, staring at Gerard pleadingly.

“The truth.”

Pete bit his lip, uncertain where Gerard was going with this. “I…”

“Oh, there you are,” Mikey said, opening the door suddenly and making Pete jump. “I’ve got some pizza if anyone’s interested?”

And with that he was out of the room, leaving Pete once again alone with Gerard.

“Pete?” Gerard tried when he saw Pete getting up and heading towards the door.

“I’m starving,” Pete said, painfully aware of how much like a coward he felt in that moment.

  
  


***

  
  


He had no idea how it happened. He was so careful. He was determined not to fuck up anything this time around. And somehow he still managed to find himself in some stupid situation with no idea as to how he should get out. Although this time he was more than willing to put all the blame on Mikey.

They were sitting in the living room with the only light coming from the moon and stars outside the window. They were supposed to be watching a movie, which had ended hours ago but they failed to notice. They weren’t doing much, just talking, but Pete felt happier than he had in a long time. He was in the middle of telling a story about how Joe once got drunk and tried to have sex with Andy, when Mikey suddenly leaned in and kissed him.

Just like that.

Alright, so maybe Pete could have pushed him off. But it felt too good. It made his heart speed up and his stomach twist pleasantly. That is, until he realized that it wasn’t 2005 anymore.

“What the hell, Mikey?” He asked, surprised at how breathless he sounded. “You can’t just do something like that.”

“I just want…” he shrugged helplessly, his gaze drifting down to Pete’s lips. “Please?”

“Fuck, Mikey.”

Pete could feel his resistance wavering and he just couldn’t let it happen.

“You’re married. _Married_. You can’t just go around kissing people.”

“I don’t,” Mikey said immediately. “Just you.”

He leaned in again, slowly this time. Pete had more than plenty of time to stop him.

“Are you drunk or something?” he asked, trying to hold onto his resolve not to fuck up.

“You know I’m not,” Mikey replied calmly, so close that Pete could feel his breath on his lips.

“It’s just so… out of character for you,” Pete said. “Where did this come from?”

“I’m just sick of it. Sick of pretending that being friends is ever going to be enough.”

“But…”

Mikey shut him up by pressing their lips together.

“Just say ‘no,” Mikey, voice muffled against the skin of Pete’s jaw. “Say that you don’t want me

and I’ll stop.”

That was it. Mikey was giving him an out. They’d end it right there and would never ever mention it again. Except that every cell in Pete’s body ached at that thought. He liked having Mikey this close to him. He liked kissing him. He liked not being lonely for a change. And he knew, could still remember vividly how loved and cared for Mikey could make him feel.

“I… fuck.”

He knew he’d end up hating himself if he didn’t put a stop to this. But then hating himself was

something he was more than used to.

  
  


***

  
  


He felt awful. He felt like the biggest jerk on Earth. Seriously, he was expecting his guilt to just

come alive any second now and swallow him whole. How could he have done something like that?

It was so bad. Well, it felt fucking awesome. Pete thought that maybe it shouldn’t have. Maybe if it

had felt terrible, he would be able to just stop and think or better still tell Mikey to go home to his

 _wife_.

“I had sex with your brother,” was the first thing Pete said as soon as the door opened.

“I gathered as much. But why did you suddenly feel the need to tell me that right now? At three o’clock in the morning?” Gerard was fully clothed, and there were colorful smudges mixed with grey coal on his face and hands, so Pete felt it was safe to assume he hadn’t been asleep. “Wait. You mean like _now_?”

Pete bit his lip and nodded vigorously.

“What the…? Ugh, come in.” He proceeded to use bodily force to pull Pete inside, locking the door

behind them. “Sit down,” he ordered, gathering various pieces of paper from the sofa and putting

them in a pile on an armchair, before sitting down on top of the coffee table right in front of Pete.

“Why?” He asked in such tone as if Pete had just killed his beloved puppy.

“I don’t know,” Pete exclaimed. “Wait, we’re alone?” He really didn’t want to wake up anyone

else.

“Yeah. You better start knowing,” Gerard demanded.

“It just kinda… happened.”

Gerard narrowed his eyes and Pete started reconsidering coming to him in the first place.

“We were just sitting on the sofa, talking and then he kissed me.”

“He started it?” Gerard seemed to be stuck between disbelief, anger and surprise.

“Well, yes,” Pete sputtered. “I mean, I tried to explain why it was a bad idea but then I just kinda…” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. “Is talking about your brother’s sex life extremely fucking weird or just plain weird?”

“It’s not weird,” Gerard shook his head. “Not that it’s something I discuss at length with every person I meet. Or him for that matter. Still, I’ve seen weirder.”

“I’m freaking out right now,” Pete said as if expecting Gerard to just come up with a magic wand and make everything perfect.

Gerard just raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘no shit?’.

“Coffee?” Gerard offered. “I need to wrap my head around… this… thing.”

“It’s three o’clock in the morning.”

“I know. I said it earlier.”

Pete just blinked at him. Trust Gerard to completely miss the point. After all, according to him there was no bad time for a cup of coffee. Or a jug of coffee, for that matter.

“Two sugars, please,” he finally said. Gerard nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, motioning

for Pete to follow him.

“Alright,” Gerard said, placing the two mugs and a plate with sandwiches on the table. “First of all,

you need to get some sleep.”

Pete looked down at his mug and the sandwich in his hand. Yep, caffeine and peanut butter and jelly were just what he needed to help him sleep.

“Second, you talk to Mikey. And please, do try to actually talk at least a little bit before you start tearing each other’s clothes off.”

Pete almost choked on his sandwich, managing a startled “wha’?” amid his coughing fit.

“Third,” he paused, downing half the mug of coffee at once. “Why did you do this?”

“I…”

“I know that you said Mikey started it. But you know how he feels about you. Why didn’t you just say ‘no’?”

“Look, I’ve been asking myself that same question for more than an hour now.”

“What I’m trying to say is, don’t lead him on. Don't get his hopes up unless you’re prepared to go through with this.”

“Go through… Gerard, he is fucking married. You both just seem to keep forgetting that.”

Gerard sighed and chewed his thumbnail. “Yeah, he is. And I adore Alicia, don’t get me wrong. But… I’m not sure he’ll ever be able to quite get over you. I mean, he might be okay now, but he would throw it all to hell more than happily if he thought he might get a second shot at a relationship with you. No looking back, no questions asked.”

“That doesn’t sound like Mikey,” Pete said wrinkling his nose.

“It does. It does when it comes to you,” Gerard replied. There was something in his tone, in the way he looked at Pete that made his guts twist with something he couldn’t quite name.

  
  


***

  
  


Pete didn’t get any sleep that night but he didn’t think the coffee was to blame. More the way his stomach kept twisting anxiously every time he remembered Mikey’s breathy moans or the way he smiled at him, so full of affection Pete didn’t know if he could handle all of it. He sure as hell didn’t deserve it. At six o’clock he gave up, stumbling into the kitchen only to find a half-asleep Mikey at the table, a mug of what Pete expected to be coffee in front of him.

“Coffee?” Mikey mumbled as soon as he noticed him.

“No, thanks. I don’t usually drink more than one a day.”

He pretended not to see the puzzled look Mikey was giving him. “You’ve already had coffee today?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Pete said though it sounded more like a question.

“Right,” Mikey nodded slowly. “So what you are saying is... you couldn’t sleep, so you thought you’d have some coffee. I think that maybe you’ve been spending too much time with Gee? ‘Cause that’s his brand of logic.”

“Possibly.”

Pete bit his lip, then, before he could get cold feet, strode across the kitchen and sat down opposite Mikey. “We need to talk,” he said.

The heartbroken glint in Mikey’s eyes almost made him back off. Almost.

“I don’t want you to regret it,” Mikey said softly.

“I don’t re…”

“Yes, you do,” Mikey cut in. “You’re feeling guilty, because you're thinking about Alicia. Probably Patrick, too, at this point. I’m not sure anymore.”

“I…” Pete tried to interject but Mikey just wouldn’t let him.

“I can promise you that it won’t happen again,” he paused, studying Pete closely. “If you really don’t want it.”

‘I don’t want to do this,’ was what he meant to say but somewhere on the way from his brain to his mouth it transformed into “I don’t want to lead you on.”

Mikey blinked at him, a weird expression flitting across his features. “You wouldn’t, by any chance, have talked to my brother about it, now would you?”

Pete wasn’t sure if he should deny it as a ridiculous idea or just confess. Before he could do either, Mikey was talking again.

“It’s okay if you did, you know.”

Pete raised his eyebrows. “You don’t mind me telling your brother about your sex life? What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

Mikey just smiled at him. “He’s a smart guy,” Mikey shrugged. “Whatever he told you must have been true.”

“I need to think,” Pete said suddenly, the legs of his chair scraping the floor as he got up. “We… we’ll talk later, yeah?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you throw me out.”

It was a simple statement. But somehow the implication behind it made breath catch in Pete’s throat, his chest tight with so many emotions he wasn’t sure he could ever make sense of them. He thought that if maybe that was the case, they might be stuck together for the rest of their lives, because Pete sure as hell wasn’t going to throw him out. But this time, he managed to bite his tongue and just offered Mikey a tight smile before disappearing into the living room.

  
  


***

  
  


The doorbell had rang at least five times already before Pete reached the door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

He expected Gerard, wanting to share his newest great idea. Or maybe Mikey, who had forgotten his key again. But even an axe murderer would surprise him less than the sight that greeted him when he opened the door.

“Hi,” Patrick was smiling at him shyly and Pete was instantly reminded of the first time they met. “Can I come in?”

Pete opened and closed his mouth, before he could remember how to form words. Like Mikey, before, Patrick also ranked as only slightly less surprising and dangerous than the axe murderer.

“Sure,” he said, though it came out more like a question.

He didn’t quite trust himself not to dream this up. It seemed real enough. But then, for Pete, lots of things seemed real enough.

“You’re really here,” Pete muttered, his hand falling on Patrick’s shoulder before he could stop himself. “Why?”

Patrick bit his lip and shrugged. “Um… I guess I missed you,” he said quietly, looking at Pete through his eyelashes, a pink blush slowly spreading over his cheeks. This was not the swaggering pop god in his polished suits. This was the insecure boy, unsure of his footing. Yep, this was _his_ Patrick, alright, the one he'd known and loved all those years, and not some stranger.

It was such a fucking relief that Pete wanted to go to him and do something really impulsive and reckless. He counted to ten and chewed the inside of his cheek to stay under control.

Instead, he just asked, “You okay?”

“I think so,” Patrick nodded. “I just realized I was being stupid.”

Pete grasped his arm and practically dragged him to the living room. “Go on,” he said breathlessly.

“When I broke up the band… when I broke up with you? It seemed like the right thing to do at that time, you know. I felt like I was stuck.”

Pete nodded sympathetically. Yeah, he could understand that perfectly.

“Anyway, I guess I thought that quitting the band would suddenly make everything better. And in some ways, maybe it did. I feel better, for sure. But I’m really lonely. I miss you, and I miss the guys… And I can’t shake off the feeling that I’m a jerk,” he finished with an apologetic smile and Pete thought his heart might just explode.

“I love you so fucking much.” _So much for being careful._

Patrick widened his eyes but then grinned at him. “Yep, you haven’t changed one bit. And, for the first time in your life, you can take that as a compliment.”

They both chuckled. It felt good. No matter how hard Pete tried to pretend it wasn't the case, not having Patrick with him felt like a major piece of his heart was missing. Patrick made him complete. They needed each other to be the best versions of themselves.

“So… you’re not really mad at me?” Patrick asked quietly, wrapping his fingers around Pete’s wrist.

“Patrick,” Pete said, his voice dripping with affection. “I couldn’t be mad at you even if you tried to kill me, okay?”

Patrick chuckled. “Just for the record, I don’t think I would do that, but thanks, anyway. So... we’re okay?”

The smile was getting painful, but Pete just couldn't drop it. “We’re great.”

Patrick’s smile slipped suddenly, a more somber expression replacing it. “About our… relationship,” he said slowly, carefully choosing his words. “Uh…”

Pete got a feeling he knew where Patrick was going with this. “I think we’re more than fine being best friends, don’t you? At least for now.”

The relief on Patrick’s face assured Pete that he hadn’t lost his ability to instinctively know what it was that Patrick needed.

“That might be one of the best ideas you’ve ever had,” Patrick agreed.

“Now, if that’s all, I think we could eat something. What do you say?”

“But I’m choosing,” Patrick grinned. “And then maybe we could work on something? I’ve got so many melodies stuck in my head but I’m going nowhere with the lyrics.”

“Funny, I just so happen to have notebooks full of lyrics but no melodies,” Pete winked at Patrick, his heart so much lighter and finally complete.

  
  


***

  
  


Pete came into the guest bedroom two days later to find a suitcase on the bed and clothes all over

the floor.

“Mikey,” he called. “You going somewhere?”

Mikey emerged from the adjoining bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet.

“New Jersey,” he said, his tone dull.

“You’re leaving?” Pete said, immediately feeling guilty. Mikey had his own life, for God’s sake. Pete couldn’t just keep him forever, as much as he wished he could.

“I came here to keep you company. You don’t need me anymore,” he said, pulling on some underwear and looking around for his jeans.

“That’s not true. I always need you,” Pete said.

Mikey smiled at him and it was so dejected, Pete felt his heart start to break again.

“I do, you know,” he insisted. “Anyway, I guess we really do need to talk.” He watched the muscles in Mikey’s arms shift as he put on a T-shirt, just so he wouldn't have to meet his eyes.

“Is this really necessary?” Mikey asked, an undertone of pleading in his voice. “I get it. You’ve got Patrick. You’ll _always_ have Patrick. I don’t need you to let me down gently. I’m not gonna break.”

‘You’ve said that before,’ Pete thought. ‘When you thought I was leaving you for Patrick. Not long before I did just that.’ And was that remorse Pete was feeling?

“Mikey,” Pete sighed, moving the suitcase out of the way, so that he could sit down and then pulling Mikey down next to him by his wrist. “I know you’re not. You’re like... one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. But we still need to talk. Otherwise we might end up not talking ever again or just plainly hating each other. And I’m not sure I could survive you hating my guts.” He felt tears welling up just at the thought.

“Fine,” Mikey muttered. “Talk.”

Pete took a deep breath, aware of Mikey’s pulse where he still had his fingers wrapped around his

wrist.

“First of all, I did make up with Patrick but we’re not together.” Something like hope flickered in Mikey’s eyes but he seemed to kill it off immediately. “And as for us…”

Mikey closed his eyes and shook his head. “Pete…”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, I do love you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you. But I can’t promise you anything. I fucked up every single relationship I’ve ever had. I don’t even know how. And I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Then why are you?” Mikey said, his voice higher than usually and Pete noted that there were tears in his eyes.

“You love Alicia. I know you do. And you’re happy with her. Let’s just keep it that way.”

Mikey had his eyes closed. He was breathing steadily but it was shaky. “Guess there really is no happy ending for us, is there?” Mikey whispered, glancing at Pete.

Pete bit his lip. He wished it wasn’t so complicated. If there was one thing he wanted more than anything else in this world it was to have Mikey to himself, every single day, so painfully his.

“I should finish packing,” Mikey said, staring at the piles of clothing covering the floor, although Pete wasn’t sure if he could actually see them.

“When are you leaving?” Pete asked.

“As soon as I manage to get all my stuff in this bag,” Mikey said, pointing behind them.

“You need some help?”

Mikey shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he said. And Pete knew he meant more than just the packing.

  
  


***

  
  


“Fuck, I’ve forgotten how much fun it is,” Joe said when they took a break during the recording of _Save Rock and Roll_. “This shit’s gonna be awesome, you’ll see.”

Andy rolled his eyes from where he was standing at the door but there was a smile on his face. “Yeah, that’s great. Now, could we go get something to eat? I’m dying here, man.”

Joe made a face but followed him anyway.

“You coming?” He asked Pete and Patrick when they didn’t move.

“Nah, I’m not really hungry,” Pete replied.

“Patrick?” Joe raised his eyebrow at the man in question.

“I’ll stay here. I wanted to go over some of the songs again.”

“Fucking perfectionist,” they heard Joe mutter to himself, albeit not without some affection, before the door closed behind him.

“Which songs did you want to go over?” Asked Pete when they found themselves alone.

“I didn’t,” replied Patrick, looking at Pete intently.

And seriously, how could Pete not see this one coming?

“Patrick,” he moaned, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“What’s wrong? And don’t lie. I know you,” Patrick reminded him. As if Pete could ever forget that. “Is it about Mikey?” Patrick guessed, when Pete didn’t say anything. “It is, isn’t it? You literally just cringed.”

“I miss him,” Pete shrugged. “But I’ll be fine.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow at him but before he could say anything, Pete cut in.

“You know, I’ve got some new lyrics. Maybe you could take a look?”

Patrick stared at him for a long time, not saying anything, but then he gave in. “Yeah, why not?”

Maybe Pete wasn’t at his best but he knew it’d get better. Patrick was back to being his best friend, they were making a new album and Pete was already looking forward to the tour that would follow, happy that he would get the opportunity to spend so much time with his friends that they wouldn’t want to see one another’s faces for weeks after.

And things with Mikey would get back to normal eventually. They would never be able to stay away from each other for too long.

Happy ending be damned. Pete would make the best of what he had, and something as insignificant as fate wasn’t gonna change it.

  
  
  


 

 

 


End file.
